


Second Chances

by GlindaThropp



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: (mostly) Canon Compliant, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 22:53:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20265829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlindaThropp/pseuds/GlindaThropp
Summary: Once upon a time, there were two boys with the same secret. That didn't make them the same.





	Second Chances

It was a long time ago, the memory fleeting, even without the tampering of a homicidal clown. Two friends having a moment of fun amidst their collapsing world. A friend group, a family, steadily disintegrating. Things were changing, moving about—soon nothing would be recognizable as the fateful summer seven children had shared and somehow survived.

Even this was ending—lazy afternoons spent between Richie and Eddie in the Tozier house in the late September heat, so uncomfortable they needed a large fan and shirts off to not be miserable. They’d talk shit about jerks at school, worry about the future, play games both would be too embarrassed to do with anyone else but weren’t ready to abandon completely.

“Come on, Eds,” Richie said, or something to that effect, punctuated with a playful jab at Eddie’s ribs. “You can take him, easy.”

The incarceration of Henry Bowers hadn’t done much to stop Eddie’s bullying. It seemed like there would always be some kind of harassment about his asthma, his hypochondria, or some other imperceptible quality some schoolyard bastard took issue with. On one hand, things weren’t nearly as bad—none of the newer jerks filling the Bowers Gang’s shoes were openly murderous. On the other, being treated this way sucked, even if he was used to something more extreme. 

However light the punch was intended to be, it still stung a bit. Eddie rubbed his ribs sourly. “Shut up, Richie.” Not beep beep, he was serious.

Honestly… Eddie felt like he and Richie were falling out of touch. With their usual bullies… gone, Richie got on with the other kids much better than Eddie. He just… meshed better, or something. He couldn’t see anyone ever being a fan of his Voices, but at least he made people laugh in other ways. Self-deprecating humor, or whatever. He wished he could be talking to Mike, or even Stan (though he had long since moved away). They seemed to understand it better, what it was like to be hated because of who you are.

Richie took the hint and backed off. “Sorry, Eds. Are they really bothering you that much?” For a blessed moment, it honestly seemed like he was willing to be serious.

Eddie nodded mutely.

“Well… If they’re actually hurting you,” Richie said slowly, “I’ll hurt them worse.”

Something in his expression took Eddie aback. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, Eds.” Eddie felt certain his friend was about to say I’d do anything for you and became convinced the room was spinning. He didn’t even see him getting ready to pounce. He cried out as Richie alternated between pinching and tickling his exposed torso.

Between laughing and swatting at the Trashmouth’s treacherous hands, Eddie managed to gain the advantage; he ended up on top of Richie, pinning his arms while his fingers pressed together uselessly like a crab’s claws. “Get off me.”

Palms now up in surrender, Richie pointed out, “You’re on me now.” A grin, somehow simultaneously shit-eating and sincere, crossed his face. “Told you you could take them.”

“Let’s talk about something else,” Eddie said, scooting off and turning away.

Richie, however, still wanted to be helpful.

“Come on, Eds.” He reached a hand towards the other boy’s shoulder, but decided against it at the last minute. “I don’t want to see these guys getting to you. They’re just dumb name-calling bullies. I want to help you out, but I can’t if I—”

“If you don’t understand?” Eddie whipped back around, eyes blazing. “Because, get this, dumbass… You don’t understand. You can’t and you won’t ever so I don’t know why you won’t let it go. This isn’t the Bowers gang getting led by someone who needed to be locked up. It’s not just some jerks calling me names or telling lies about me—I think I could fucking handle that. It the fact that there’s these people… not just a group, but a damn majority, and they all hate me.” Why do they hate you, Girly-Boy? Hesitantly, he continued, “because I’m…”

Richie finally managed to shut up. His mouth opened slightly, the words go on dying before they made a sound. During his outburst, Eddie had gotten into his face. He could smell his breath: sort of a pleasant battery acid.

“I guess I’m just… different.” At this point, tears were welling in his eyes, and Eddie hated himself for it. But that was it. He started to straighten his back, ready to let the matter rest. If he didn’t start crying properly, maybe Richie wouldn’t even notice.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his face, thumbing away the treacherous tear that slipped past the line. Richie’s expression was utterly bizarre, like he had just woken up from a nice dream that didn’t make much sense. In a low voice—not a Voice, he was being sincere—he said, “Me too, Eddie.” And then he leaned in.

If he kissed back, it wasn’t a big deal, was it? It was his first kiss, and he was curious. Richie had instigated it; Sonia was unlikely to happen upon them. The danger in this action… it was still there, but it seemed less pronounced. Kissing a boy—kissing Richie—wasn’t unpleasant, and it was something Eddie had thought about in the past. More times than he cared to admit. 

Richie grew bolder, moving a hand into Eddie’s hair. He leaned into the touch. This was nice. Eddie reached a hand out, entwining his fingers with those on the one Richie still had free.

But… it wasn’t a good kiss, and not only because neither party knew what they were doing. If Sonia did show up, if she came looking for Eddie and Richie’s mother let her in, “they’re upstairs, second door on the right, can’t miss it”, if either of the adults who lived here decided to pop in, let them know dinner was ready and told Eddie’s mom… He didn’t know what he’d do. He had some ideas: for starters, he’d never see Richie again. She’d probably call him a pervert to his face. That’s how you get disease, Eddie, and you’re already so fragile… I’m not even sure I can let you out of the house anymore. His breathing hitched.

Richie pulled away, instantly concerned. “Eddie, are you okay?”

He nodded, then shook her head, his breath coming out faster now. He started gasping. “Inhaler,” he managed to say, pointing to where he had left it on Richie’s nightstand. In only a moment, it was in his hand, and he clung to it, hand and mouth, like it was the only thing keeping him from drowning. The entire time, Richie rubbed his back, trying to do something, he supposed.

Neither of them said a word as Eddie’s breathing returned to normal. At last, Richie pulled his friend into a hug. “I don’t know what I’d do if I fucking killed you, Eds.” It was half a joke, but for once it was the seriousness in his voice that bothered him. Eddie wrenched himself out of his friend’s grasp, glaring at the face above the uncovered torso.

“I have to go. Now.”

“Eddie…” Richie’s expression was pleading. “We can go back… ignore it…”

“Really.” Eddie swallowed hard. His mother’s voice told him this was the right thing to do. “See you, I guess.” 

They didn’t much after that. Soon enough, one of them moved away, then the other. For the most part, they forgot about each other.


End file.
